Like Rubies on the Sand
by prpl pen
Summary: Nnoitra isn't happy when Halibel is born into the Espada, but that's nothing compared to his rage when he discovers the new Arrancar's rank exceeds his own. Originally written for the LJ community Jump Exchange. ONE-SHOT.


**Author's Notes:** At the point of writing this story, we haven't been told the ranks of the top three Espada yet, so any mention of their ranks is pure conjecture on my part, as are details about Halibel's particular abilities, the location of her Hollow hole and number tattoo, and her general appearance behind her collar.

-

Though Nnoitra was facing the opposite direction, Ulquiorra's approaching reiatsu still gave him away long before he spoke. "Aizen-sama requests your presence at the birth of our new comrade."

Nnoitra made no response, gave no indication that he even noticed Ulquiorra's presence in the doorway of his chambers. It still chafed that the upstart had been given a higher rank than him, and it gave him a childish pleasure to persist in small acts of insubordination, ranging from the petulant to the outright defiant, depending upon his mood.

"Nnoitra." There was no note of question; Ulquiorra knew perfectly well that he was being heard and understood, and the complete confidence in this fact was plain in his voice. It didn't matter; Nnoitra still had no intention of giving him the courtesy of a response. "We gather within the hour."

"Understood, Ulquiorra-san." Tesla's mild voice caused Nnoitra to involuntarily jerk his head up and back to look behind him. His fracción stood near the entryway, his head bowed politely in the direction of Ulquiorra's retreating form. With a snarl, Nnoitra crossed the room in a few quick steps and roughly backhanded his subordinate with his fist. Tesla, not expecting the attack, made no move to guard himself, and the force of the blow caused his head to connect to the nearby wall with a loud crack.

"Who told you to fucking speak for me?" Nnoitra spat, his hands balling tightly into fists at his side. Belatedly, he remembered Ulquiorra, and glanced up. The impassive back of the withdrawing arrancar showed no sign of interest in Nnoitra's outburst, though there was no way Ulquiorra could have missed it at that distance.

"Forgive me, Nnoitra-sama, I didn't mean to presume--" Tesla's voice continued in the back of his awareness, but Nnoitra didn't hear the words his fracción was reciting. All he was aware of was the angry rush of blood coursing through his body, throbbing in his ears and hazing his vision.

***

Nnoitra had always felt that Aizen-sama carried out the births of new arrancar with far too much ceremony. The Espada, at least, were generally expected to be in attendance, even though more often than not the resulting comrade was far beneath their level. Nnoitra thought it a waste of time, to be perfectly honest. He didn't require any more fracción--in his view, having a large number of subordinates only put forth the impression that you were weak and required the extra help--and could see no other purpose to attending than to choose one. Still, since the birth of Ulquiorra, Nnoitra had become more diligent than he'd been in the past about attending the ceremonies. He wanted to avoid another shock like he'd gotten at that time, after being informed that the newly-made arrancar (whose birth he had _not_ attended) was given a rank surpassing his own.

He made a show of disinterest, however, leaning back against a wall and looking away from the center of the room, when Aizen-sama had withdrawn the Hougyoku and was just finishing up the procedure. There came the tinkling sound of shattering glass as the crystallized reiatsu encasing the newly-made arrancar broke apart and fell to the floor, signaling their awakening. Still, Nnoitra didn't even bother to look, not even as Aizen-sama greeted their new compatriot. "Rise," he said in a voice rich with warm benevolence, "and tell us your name."

"Halibel," came the simple answer, and Nnoitra couldn't hold in a sharp crow of laughter as he turned to get a look at the new-made arrancar. He didn't need to see her to know she was a woman, of course--her voice alone was enough to reveal that fact. Her skin was a warm, dark shade, standing in sharp contrast to the light, lemony color of her hair and the piercing aquamarine of her eyes. The remnants of her mask clung to her both sides of her lower jaw, following the contour of her neck and collarbone in carapaced sections, flanking the Hollow hole that went neatly through her neck. She stood taller than the typical female arrancar that Aizen-sama was fond of keeping close as guards and servants in Las Noches, but though her body was well-muscled, it was still unmistakably feminine, with wide, rounded hips and thighs, and (Nnoitra thought) almost comically large breasts.

He became aware that most of the attention in the room was focused on him, after his outburst--Stark rolling his eyes at the supposed immaturity of Nnoitra's laughter; Yammy grinning, eagerly hoping to see his superior punished; Szayel Aporro watching closely with amused interest; even Ulquiorra's eyes seemed to show a hint of disapproval.

Aizen did not turn from Halibel as he held out loose white robes for her to cover herself. "Do you find something funny, Nnoitra?" he asked, his voice mild and unconcerned.

Nnoitra shook his head, though he couldn't keep the grin off of his face. "No, Aizen-sama. Sorry."

"Glad to hear it." Aizen waited as Halibel shrugged into her robes and raised a hand, beckoning her closer. She moved forward silently, and stood still with a blank expression on her face as Aizen softly touched fingertips to her cheek, just above her abbreviated mask. "Hmm," he said, withdrawing the hand. "I thought as much." He snapped his fingers, beckoning a pair of servants from behind.

The tension in the room suddenly shot upwards. This was a rare occasion indeed: if appearances were to be believed, Aizen-sama intended to brand this new arrancar on the spot, which could only mean she was to be Espada. Nnoitra's grin turned sharply downward into a grimace. "You've got to be fuckin' kidding me," he growled, voice low, but still audible enough to draw glances from those nearby.

Aizen himself may have heard, but he gave no indication of it, instead turning to face the majority of his audience of Espada and lesser Números. "Let me introduce our new comrade: Halibel, Segunda Espada."

Nnoitra felt the blood drain from his face, and the knuckles of the hand with which he gripped Santa Teresa. "Bullshit!" This couldn't be true--not only was this...this _girl_ to be an Espada, but for her to outrank him? For a moment a face from the past flashed through his mind: marked with pink and framed in waves of vivid green hair. His grip on his zanpakutou grew tighter, while his other hand balled into a compact fist. Neliel had caused him indignity enough, but_ this_ was worse by far. A murmur went through the chamber, and Nnoitra realized belatedly that he must have shouted out loud.

Now Aizen was turning to face him, and his eyes were cold. "You have objections, Nnoitra?" Though his voice was even, there was a barely-hidden threat in Aizen's words, and the room dimmed slightly under the pressure of his reiatsu.

"Aizen-sama," Nnoitra began, too incensed to care about the consequences, "this has to be a mistake. She's--"

"Are you suggesting," Aizen cut him off, "that I've made a mistake, Nnoitra?"

Nnoitra hissed in a sharp breath, unsure of how to answer. "She's not--she _can't_--"

"Allow me to prove my abilities." Halibel took a step forward, her bare feet silent on the stone floor, and crossed her arms across her chest. Nnoitra glared at her, shaking his head. How _dare_ she presume to be his better....

He felt a hand drop heavy on his shoulder, fingers gripping the cloth of his coat. "Don't be stupid," a low voice murmured, from somewhere behind him. Nnoitra angrily shrugged off the hand.

"Stark," Nnoitra spat. "Are you really going to go along with this?"

Stark only shrugged. "Aizen-sama says she's Segunda, she's Segunda."

Nnoitra laughed. Of course Stark wouldn't have the guts to rock the boat, the lazy bastard. After all, why should he? Hadn't he been appointed Primera Espada? He wouldn't dare to offend Aizen-sama and jeopardize his position.

With a snarl, Nnoitra whirled and stormed from the chamber, ignoring the shouts of his fellow Espada. If Aizen-sama were to call him back, he'd be hard-pressed to ignore it, but the turncoat shinigami made no sound of rebuke. Nnoitra stalked with increasing momentum, cuffing aside an unfortunate servant who didn't move out of his way fast enough. "Damn it," he breathed, spreading his sword arm so that Santa Teresa clashed against the wall. He still made no move to stop, dragging the zanpakutou along and gouging a rough groove down the hallway as he moved--he wasn't even sure _where_ he was going; his chambers lay in the opposite direction.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it, _fuck_!!!" At this last, he pulled Santa Teresa forward roughly, tearing chunks of bare white stone from the wall, and slammed her hard into the floor before him. The impact caused a tremor, like a small earthquake, to reverberate down the hallway, and at the point of impact the once-smooth and reflective stone crumbled instantly to gritty sand.

Nnoitra didn't feel the small shockwave that traveled up his arm as the blow landed. All he was aware of was the sharp spear of anger, red and hot, that shot through his head.

She would learn her place. He'd see to that.

***

"If you think I don't realize you are there," Halibel began, her voice infuriatingly unconcerned and matter-of-fact, "you are wrong."

Nnoitra had made no move to mask his presence, but her statement irked him nonetheless. "You'd be pretty fucking useless if you _didn't_," he answered with a snarl.

She merely shrugged, still showing her back to him as she surveyed the bare landscape of Las Noches. She'd received her Espada uniform now, and had materialized her zanpakutou; it was sheathed at her back, a tiny and ineffectual-looking thing when compare to Santa Teresa. He took a step closer, a sneer on his face, and brought his zanpakutou forward into an attack stance. He didn't intend to move on her right here, of course, but the thought of frightening her amused him.

"I think you will find," she said, not even sparing a glance his way, "that I am not so easily dispatched as my predecessor."

His grin faded. "What do you fuckin' mean by that?"

She gave another half-shrug. "Just that."

Nnoitra glared. It had never been his intention to attack her in this way, but her words and demeanor were so _infuriating_.... Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on Santa Teresa.

"If you actually mean to attack me in this way, I must warn you that you will lose. You don't even have the element of surprise."

"_Bitch_!" he spat. "If I was going to attack you, you'd already be fucking dead." Now she finally turned her head, just slightly, enough to glance back at him with a polite look on her face. _The bitch is_ humoring _me_. He resisted the red wash of rage that tinted his vision and took a small step back, forcing his posture into a more relaxed one. A grin cracked his face once more. _Well, she'll fucking learn soon enough._

"What then, is your purpose, Nnoitra?" It surprised him that she used his name so casually, as if they were old friends.

"I'm challenging you. Formally." His cocky grin split even wider and he raised a lanky arm, pointing at her with a slightly-crooked finger. "When you lose, I become Segunda."

"Mmm." She turned back to look out at the desert, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "Aizen-sama has agreed to this?"

"Aizen-sama's got nothing to fucking do with it. This is between you and me." This was the tricky part. If she was like most of the rest of them, she'd be afraid to take a shit without Aizen's say-so. Still, if she insisted on permission before accepting, Nnoitra was sure he could convince Aizen to sanction the duel. Somehow. The only problem with that was it would take time, and Nnoitra was not known for his patience.

For an uncomfortably long moment, she said nothing; did nothing. Nnoitra's grin became strained as he realized she was going to make him go to Aizen. With a muttered curse, he was about to whirl around and go to plead his case, if that's what it took.

"I accept."

***

They chose the desert as their arena.

In that small window of calm before the battle, Nnoitra took his first good look at Halibel since her birth. She'd trimmed most of her hair, leaving a few longer wisps of it gathered into beaded tails, though it still hung in a messy mane about her face. She wore clothing now, of course, though Nnoitra thought she might just as well be naked, for all the flesh her uniform failed to cover. Those absurd breasts of hers hung half-exposed from the bottom of her short jacket, all the more incongruous because of the high collar that extended up to cover the lower half of her face. Her hakama, too, were low-slung, belted so that they hung just about the jut of her hips, the roundness of her upper thighs exposed through the slits in the side.

In a way, Nnoitra found the overt sexuality of her uniform comforting; she wouldn't be so concerned about flaunting her body if she had no need to. Perhaps Aizen-sama's reasons for assigning her an Espada ranking were based on a more carnal motivation. Nnoitra had to admit, under other circumstances, he might have found her body attractive, but the fact that she didn't know her place in the order of things only repulsed him. With a leer, he decided that he might have to forcibly show her _what_ she was good for, after their battle.

He chuckled, swiping the tip of his serpentine tongue over his teeth, and then, once more noted the zanpakutou at her back. Its blade was broad and abbreviated in length, the guard and pommel Western in design. His height already gave him a clear advantage in reach, but when one factored their respective zanpakutou into the equation, he doubted she'd even be able to touch him, unless her speed was phenomenal.

Nnoitra tilted his head back at an arrogant angle. "Are you actually planning to fight in those fucking clothes?" he said with a harsh laugh. "Or was your plan to distract me with your tits?"

"I wasn't aware that you were interested in them," she replied in that same mild tone she always used. Though she didn't speak much, Nnoitra found that _this_ was what irked him the most about her. It was even worse than that passionless drone of Ulquiorra's--at least his tone of voice gave the impression that he was disinterested in _everything_. Halibel's voice had a trace of emotion and personality to it, but implied that nothing he said ruffled her. It was almost indulgent, as if he were being purposely condescended to, and all the more infuriating for the fact that she didn't even seem to be trying to do it. As if he were so far beneath her radar that she didn't even consider the possibility that he could be a threat to her.

She'd soon realize just how wrong she was.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to touch that body of yours?" She stood, not even at alert, with her arms again crossed beneath her breasts. A thought occurred to him and he once more swept his eye over her quickly. As he'd thought, her ranking tattoo wasn't visible; he'd left, of course, before he saw wherever it was she had been branded. "Eh?" He raised his eyebrow in mock-puzzlement. "Where is it? Your número?" Before she had a chance to answer, he leaned in giving his widest grin. "I guess I got two really good guesses. So which is it: your left tit, or your right?"

As the words left his lips, Nnoitra was already in motion, surging forward, Santa Teresa leading. He intended to finish this as quickly as possible, just to compound her humiliation, but even if this blow didn't catch her by surprise, it would be a good gauge of her abilities. He allowed, reluctantly, that she wouldn't be _completely_ helpless; even if she was a woman, she was still an arrancar, after all.

Abruptly she disappeared from his vision, probably sidestepping with sonido to avoid the attack. It was as he'd thought then; her real power was most likely simple speed. Well, speed he could deal with; she might be able to get in close enough to land a few hits, but she'd never be able to penetrate his hierro. If her evasion was good it would just take a little longer, that's all.

He looked quickly to either side, trying to pick out her form. She couldn't have gone far, but he saw no sign of her. She'd somehow gotten behind him, then. He whirled, braced for the attack he knew was coming.

The landscape that had formerly been at his back was empty too. Had the bitch just run away?

The epithet he'd been about to utter was broken off as a kick connected from behind and above, slamming down into his shoulder with enough force to cause him to stagger. _Where the fuck did she come from--?_ Still, it had just been a kick, and though the force of it had taken him by surprise, his hierro probably caused more damage to her leg than she had to him.

He quickly righted himself, spinning Santa Teresa in the direction of the attack as he turned. Nnoitra expected she would be gone already; if she were smart, she'd keep up the same tactics of evasion and be sure to use her zanpakutou the next time she found an opening. He smirked. Not that it would do her any good; his skin would surely deflect her blade with ease. The next time she got close enough to make an attack, he intended to finish this while she was still reeling with surprise at the ineffectiveness of her zanpakutou against his hierro.

Nnoitra was surprised to see her standing there, just out of his range, looking completely unconcerned. Her zanpakutou was still sheathed at her back, and she even had her fucking arms crossed again, as if they were just enjoying a casual conversation instead of a serious battle to decide their rankings.

He threw back his head and laughed. In the past, Nnoitra had assumed her lack of concern regarding him was overconfidence in her own abilities. Now he knew it was just that she was too incredibly _stupid_ to know how dangerous her entire situation was. He shouldered Santa Teresa and pointed at her with a long finger from his free hand. "I'll be generous, you idiotic bitch. I'll give you until the count of ten to draw your sword. After that, you're not getting any mercy from me."

"Oh?" She merely quirked an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should should extend you the same courtesy: I'll give you a chance now to release your zanpakutou. Take it, if you are wise."

"_Bitch!_" He launched himself at her, his promise of ten seconds already forgotten in the face of her words. "Don't you fucking _dare_ look down on me!"

Instead of fleeing again as he expected, she merely took a half step to the left and leaned, slightly, somehow managing to easily avoid his swing without even bothering to uncross her arms.

"I'll kill you!" he shrieked, his voice rising in pitch as he began to swing Santa Teresa in earnest, his movements growing ever more messy and erratic. "I'll fuckin' _kill you_!" Still she avoided his blows, making only the barest of movements. This wasn't right. This _couldn't_ be right. She wasn't even _trying_. She didn't _have_ to try. He roared, his vision awash in red once more, the image of Halibel overlaid in his mind with that of Neliel.

"If this is all you intend," came her voice, calm and impassive even in the midst of his onslaught, "then perhaps it would be best if I finished this. We've wasted enough time here catering to your bruised ego, I think." Finally she uncrossed her arms, reaching back with her right arm to draw the zanpakutou sheathed at her back.

Nnoitra sucked in a sharp breath. Oddly, instead of further enraging him, her words had somehow freed him from his berserker fit, given him focus. In one carefully measured movement, he speared Santa Teresa outward, saw an edge of her sickle blade about to connect with that bitch's throat, _felt_ his zanpakutou tear through with surprisingly little resistance....

He saw the blood splash in an arc against the desert floor of Las Noches. Under the dim glow of the perpetual night sky, those drops glittered where they lay; their color bright against the stark whiteness, like rubies on the sand.

"I appear to have underestimated you," Did Halibel's voice hold a trace of grudging respect? "My apologies." Her silhouette appeared above him, where he lay prone on the sand. His hand clutched at the deep wound in his chest, as if he could somehow stop the blood from gushing that way. It poured, hot, between his fingers and spilled down his side to pool around his body. "I didn't think you would be able to do even this much." She leaned over him a bit as she reached back to sheath her sword, and the torn collar of her jacket hung down, revealing her face.

Somehow, seeing her like that--it wasn't even that she'd managed to injure him so easily, nor that he had failed to hurt _her_--he understood. Though his ego and his instinct both cried out, _now! now is the perfect time! while she's off her guard, attack!_, he made no move to do so. Instead, he dropped Santa Teresa from his grasp and reached up. His long, thin arm gave him just enough reach to brush his thumb across the numeral tattooed on her lips, in a movement that surprised him with its gentleness.

_fin._


End file.
